Come Morning Light
by XJackiefrostX
Summary: Before the events in Age of Ultron, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff were just two kids trying to survive the cruel streets of Sokovia. non-con. not-explicit. Pietro centric.


Pietro thought his world had ended back when the shell had devastated their home. In those moments spent desperately clinging to his sister's unconscious body, shielding her from falling debris and watching as the life left their parent's eyes, he naively thought that this was the worst thing that could have ever happened to him. It wasn't until he lay unmoving on the stained mattress, covered in too many bruises to count with tears running down his face that he realized how wrong he really was.

* * *

They were rescued three days later; Wanda with a minor concussion and he himself with a fractured wrist, both of them suffering from the effects of dehydration. They spent a period of time at a clinic where they overheard the staff speaking in hushed voices of their intentions of splitting them up so that Wanda could go to an all girl's orphanage while he went to an all boy's. They ran away that night in the same clothes they had been wearing when they had been pulled from the rubble along with a small bag full of medical supplies that careless nurses had left unattended around them.

They took to living in the streets, wandering around scavenging for anything that they could sell for food. When the weather acted up they were forced to beg and rely on the pity of others. Pietro didn't mind begging as much in the times when they got enough to buy a loaf of bread for the night and Wanda's stomach stopped crying out in hunger. He didn't care what he had to do as long as he kept his sister safe; for her he would do anything.

Life was hard especially since both he and Wanda had taken after their mother in the height department and such were easy targets when it came to the older kids that were also living on the streets. They were constantly moving around when their makeshift home was taken over by someone bigger and stronger than them. They fought a lot, or more Pietro fought enough for the both of them, always trying to keep his sister out of harm's way. They lost more often than not and would end up losing most of their meager possessions. Slightly battered and bloodied, they would always have each other and in those moments that was all they needed.

They survived the next year, learning the ropes of street life and getting by with whatever they could salvage. Their way of living would never be okay but at least they were getting by enough to survive… and then Wanda got sick. It had started off a raspy cough and he'd foolishly thought the temperamental weather had brought her down with a cold so he worked harder to make sure that they would have enough to get them an extra blanket for the night. He didn't have enough money to take Wanda to a clinic and her health had quickly deteriorated to wheezing, having trouble breathing and refusing to eat anything because when she did it would just come back up anyway. Pietro cursed himself with a few of the foul words he'd heard the older kids use for not having realized what his sister actually had. Whooping cough.

Pietro knew his sister could die, he wasn't a complete idiot what with many of the sick homeless kids dying within a couple days or weeks depending on how strong their immune system was. Wanda was the only constant in his life, always there when his temper got the best of him or when he got lost in his memories of the past. He'd be damned if he didn't at least try and do everything he could to make her better, even if he had do things he wasn't proud of.

Pietro might've been a lanky eleven year old but that didn't mean he didn't know what went on in the more southern streets of Sokovia. He saw how some of the more older kids would hang out on the same street, most of their skin bare beneath the white moonlight, until someone came by and took them away for the night. Most of them came back with rumpled clothing and a couple bruises but they would also come back with enough money to last them a couple days if the spent it wisely. He'd have to be at the salvage yard for weeks before he could make that kind of money and Wanda didn't have that kind of time.

That night he got her to sleep with little difficulty, her illness robbing her of any strength to protest. He'd be a liar if he said he wasn't scared as he walked around the street, wide-eyed and trembling from the cold in his threadbare clothes. The older kids shot him confused glances some looking as though they wished to approach him. A tall figure held up a gloved hand for all to see effectively making everyone go back to what they were doing before.

Upon closer inspection Pietro could see that it was just a teenager no more than maybe six years his senior. He had dirty blonde hair that looked as though it hadn't been washed in a couple days and he sported a scraped cheek beneath dark circles that outlined his amber eyes. "Hey kid." he started off awkwardly. "I'm not going to ask you why you're here. God knows we all have our reasons." he trailed off depressingly, scraping the sole of his shoe along the uneven pavement. "Truth is we take care of our own in this business so take these and no matter what they say don't let them do anything if they don't wear it." he said, voice cracking halfway as he handed Pietro three brightly colored wrappers.

Pietro looked at them in confusion but took them anyway grateful for the advice. "Thank you." he answered awkwardly, unable to respond to such kindness.

"You are too young for this." the teenager said simply. "Take care kid." he mumbled giving him one more pitying look before heading over to a less populated area of the street to await his next client.

Pietro pocketed the small gift into hi ill-fitting clothing and waited for someone to approach him. Time seemed to slow as a man that was neither young nor old advanced towards him. He willed his heart to stay calm as it practically echoed in his ears with how fast it was beating against his chest.

"How much?" the man asked, his voice gruff and demanding as he leered at him with beady eyes. He held himself in a way that spoke of arrogance and pride, a man used to getting what he wanted. A warm slightly worn fur coat shielded the man from the worst of Sokovia's weather, making him appear bigger than he really was.

Pietro heard himself repeating the same price that kid beside him had said when a woman had asked him something similar. Everything went by in a blur as the man roughly grabbed him by the scruff of the neck leading him away from the pitying eyes of the kind teenager. The walk wasn't far but Pietro had no idea where they were since every time he tried to lift his head the man would push it back down with a firm grunt of displeasure. His eyes fell upon the cracked steps of what may have once been somebody's home but had now turned into a withering building barely holding itself together. The door seemed to have been knocked off its hinges and the building looked as though it had seen better days. They walked across the dusty floors full of fallen debris, which he suspected must have once been the roof, into a slightly cleaner room where a stained mattress riddled with holes sat in the corner.

He was thrown none too gently onto the stained mattress the padding doing nothing to cushion his fall. Riffling through the pockets of his baggy pants he clutched at the brightly colored wrappers offering one to the man with shaking hands. The man snatched it out of his hand glancing at it distastefully but didn't argue on the matter making Pietro give an internal sigh of relief.

His bare back made contact with the rough texture of the mattress making his skin crawl and bile rise to his throat. Tears stung the edge of his eyes as he gripped the padding beneath him with deadly force. The pain was excruciating making his spine feel as though it were being stabbed. He wept silently as he allowed the man to do as he pleased. He laid there motionless for what felt like hours, tears sliding down his cheeks and seeping into the dingy mattress beneath him. His muscles protested against the ways they were being forced to bend but he paid no mind to it, too busy attempting not to choke on the snot that had accumulated in his nose.

He could barely breathe as his chest hitched with hiccupping breaths allowing himself a sob as the man finally finished. He cried out as the man disentangled himself from him, pushing him away as though he were garbage. His knees slowly curled up into his chest as his arms wound themselves around his thin legs, body trembling as he sniveled.

"You're lucky I don't care much for tears boy." the man said, tossing a couple notes onto Pietro's shivering body. "Get dressed and get gone." he said as he zipped himself up and strode out the door leaving Pietro alone.

He laid there for hours sobbing his heart out, hugging his knees to his chest as he allowed himself this moment of weakness. As he painfully pulled himself into a sitting position he realized that the place he'd been laying was slightly damp. The sight of blood made him panic and scramble away from the mattress, his bare body landing harshly against the cold stone floor. He wept in relief as he realized that there wasn't much blood and he'd mostly stopped bleeding some time ago going by how it had crusted over between his thighs.

His back gave a spasm of pain as he knelt down to retrieve his clothing wanting nothing more than to leave this place and scrub away the filth he felt on his skin. He rubbed away the fresh tears that sprang from his eyes doing his best to look as presentable as he could given the situation. As he limped outside, his pockets slightly heavier he told himself that he consoled himself with the fact that he could cry later because right now Wanda needed him.


End file.
